hold me in your beating heart
by WickedCure
Summary: Ramsay and Clara(OC) used to be good friends when they we're still innocent children. The course of events and a lethal sickness forced Clara's family to leave the Dreadfort to live in hiding. In the time of war alliances are important and old friendships will be tested but what will happen when old friends turn into monsters? (now beta-ed)
1. Old Friends

**01 Old Friends**

For years every day had been colored in the same shade of grey. Clouds darkened the sky as if they knew what was coming. Snowflakes kept falling as if they tried to soften the ground for falling cropses. The snow was ready to be soaked with blood of the innocent and the sinners. Everyone could see it. Winter was coming. Now more than ever.

The Winter had been closing in on Clara's heart since she left_ him. _Sometimes she was afraid she would forget what his face looked like.. his dangerous eyes, blue like the ice cold ocean, his wicked smile that never held promise for a happy ending. The sound of his voice had slipped away shortly after they were seperated. Only his laugh echoed in her dreams. It echoed like it had through the walls of the Dreadfort when they were still children.

Clara let out a short sigh, shook her head and turned away from the window she had been starring out for so long. It felt odd to begin thinking about him again so frequently. She was certrain she had forgotten about him, but time often showed her how wrong she was. In the most peculiar moments he creeped into her mind -and for no reason whatsoever.

Did he even remember her? Or had he forgotten about her completeley? Was he still alive? The blonde girl giggled to herself. Of course he was alive. They had been children when she saw him last but even then she knew that no one would mess with him. If someone were to survive these horrible time, it would surely him. Yet, deep down inside, she begged that he was dead rather than turn into a cruel monster. She had seen too many good men turn into merciless creatures only surviving the God of death.

She'd foolishly believed she had perfected the art of pushing thoughts of him aside upon leaving the Dreadfort many years ago. It was silly and naive to think about these old memories. What lay before her was important. Surviving was important. Dwelling on old memories was not what she should be doing and so she pushed the memories away as she did so often.

She needed to focus on the important matters at hand. Tywinn Lannister was dead, Tyrion Lannister was missing, war conflicts escalated day by day and her house – her family – was shortly before falling. They should've chosen a side to fight for after Ned Stark died but her father rather went even more into hiding further isolating his house from society.

Clara would call him a coward, pathetic even, if she hadn't known he was doing it for her. Her father was an old man now but she was no longer the sick, weak girl she used to be when they left the a change of climate was the reason why her lungs weren't giving up on her, but right now she just wanted to be home. These cold walls had never been her home. The mountains that served as the perfect hiding place, had never been her home. Moving to this lonely place might have saved her life but there wasn't a day that she didn't wonder what was out there. The only places she had ever seen was the Dreadfort and this stupid place, that didn't even have a name. Her family wasn't the noblest by far.

Yet they had a name once. But their name was long forgotten now. It was what kept them safe. No one knew their family still existed and Clara was sure even their old friends had forgotten about them by now.

She left her room in the tower to get her mind off things. In the past weeks sad thoughts were on her mind way too much. But her moroseness was not entirely her fault. These cold days always brought an ill humor to those that resided within the castle.

Just as she had reached the last steps of the stairs, she was nearly run over by two of her handmaidens. One of them-Analina, a brown-haired and usually very quiet girl- tripped, but managed to hold herself up by the walls.

„What's going on? Why are you running through the floors like hysterical children?" Clara asked, clearly not in the mood for the silly games of her handmaidens. They have been her friends since she arrived here but today Clara would've rather be left alone. Analina was the first to find her voice again.

„There's someone coming, Mylady. Unexpected visitors."

They never had visitors. No one even knew they lived up here in the mountains. It was her family secret escape – or so they had thought.

„Who?" Clara demanded.

„I.. I don't know, Mylady. No one does. However, I did notice that hey have a flayed man on their banner." she astuttered. „But your Ser father must know them. They've already come through the gates, My Lady." Otilia, her second handmaiden, interrupted.

Clara wasn't listening anymore. A flayed man. Could it really be...?

„Why did no one inform me about this?",Clara almost shouted while she stormed past them. Her fast walk turned into running. Her thoughts wouldn't stop spinning and she gave up on keeping a straight face. For too long she had needed to act like nothing ever mattered to her. To hold in her emotions and act passively, properly. But this, today, mattered to her.

She stormed out of the building, already seeing more soldiers and horses than she had seen in the last years altogether. She couldn't even count them.

Swiftly she passed through the crowd to the front of the circle of soldiers. A hand held her back before she could take one more step.

„You'll stay here." her father ordered coldly. He never sounded like that. Suddenly he looked ten years older. Why was he so afraid all of a sudden?

„What's going on?" Clara asked but she didn't really expect an answer.

Instead her eyes started looking for someone among the strangers. There were so many faces she didn't know. Terrifying men she had never met before. Some of them covered in blood and dirt. Even the horses looked like the had just come straight from battle.

Her eyes met with someone else's and suddenly her heart skipped a beat.

Roose Bolton. He was much older with a lot of more grey hair but it was him. It was really _them_.

Did that mean_ he_ was here too?

She searched frantically, and stood up on her toes scanning the crowd . Desperately she tried to gcatch a glimpse of him. Clara was giving up hope but then the crowd parted and that was when her heart felt like it'd jump out of her chest.

There he was.

Seemingly out of nowhere he was there, within her reach again.

It had been years since she had seen him but she would never forget these eyes. They were all she needed to recognize him as he sat so proudly on his horse with an expression of arrogance on his face that she had never seen before. He got off his horse and handed the reins to a terrified looking boy next to him. No. It wasn't a boy. It was a men but his scared face and empty eyes made him look like an intimidated boy. He kept his eyes on the ground and didn't dare to look up. Clara wasn't paying him much attention though.

Eventually she got freed herself of her father's grib and stepped out of the crowd. She simply stared at him with her big, green eyes. He hadn't seen her yet which gave her enough time to really look over him. His black hair was curled up and wet from the rain. He was all dressed in black leather that appeared like armor, yet, was akin to noble clothing all the same.

Finally he looked her way and then she couldn't hold herself back anymore. Without hesitating she bolted to him. When he laid his eyes on her, she was already standing right in front of him, looking into this eyes – eyes that seemed so much colder than she remembered them.

„Ramsay..",she whispered - still in utter disbelieve that it was actually him.

Relief flooded her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It had been such a natural thing for her to do when they were children. They were friends after all and she was happy to see him alive and well. She closed her eyes, waiting for his arms to be wrapped around her like they used to be, when they said their goodbyes.

Instead she felt the cold leather of a glove grabbing her neck and then ripping her away. The gesture was so rough, and the grip so tight that it nearly took her breath away in shock. It was Ramsay himself holding her like he wanted to cut her throat open.

„Is that how you greet the son of the Warden of the North?" he whispered dangerously. His voice sounding raspier than she would've expected it to. The entire crowd had grown silent watching them. Clara could barely breathe. Not only because of the way his fingers dug into her neck, but because of his words that cut through her skin like a knife. Ramsay didn't remember her. How could he have forgotten?

„Ramsay, let her go!" Roose Bolton said sharply before Clara found the strength to speak again. „We don't have time for your games."

Ramsay obeyed his father and let go immediately.. Did she really see fear flash across his face? Did his father still terrify him? Without another word Ramsay passed by her, following his father into the castle.

Clara was left standing there, wondering what just happened. Son of the Warden of the North. The old Bolton had not accepted Ramsay as a true son- she knew that much. But what had changed? As she kept looking after them, she felt her father's gaze boring holes into the side of her head-and she met it. He just shook his head, an expression of grave disappointment twisting his features. In that moment she knew.. all this time, her father kept secrets from her. A few things about what was going in the world she knew, but now, for the first time, she realized her father never told her everything. He knew exactly what was going on and she wasn't sure if she was ready to find out.

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	2. New Allies

**02 New Allies**

The crowd soon dispersed and left Clara standing alone in the middle of the courtyard. A numbing feeling was taking over her body. She imagined meeting Ramsay again over and over but had never thought it would go down this way.

„Father, what is going on?" She asked as she walked up to her father who was still waiting for her. „How did they find us here? And what do they want?" Clara couldn't help but sound worried.

The happiness she had felt before had vanished as quickly as it had manifested. Something was telling her that the Boltons didn't mean good news, no matter how good their friendship might used to be. Friendship didn't mean much these days.

„I don't know what they want but I'll find out. Don't worry about it.", her father tried to calm her though his voice didn't seem to be as confident as his words.

„Come on, we shouldn't keep our guests waiting any longer." There it was again. His voice was trembling in fear.

Clara just silentley nodded and followed her father to the great hall. The guests had already been seated on the wooden table.

„We're more than honored to welcome you in our home, Lord Bolton." Her father started, kneeling down. „How do we deserve this honor?"

If only his voice would stop shaking. Her mother always was better in these kind of situations. What would she do if she was here now?

„We can start as soon as you send that ignorant brat of a handmaiden out.", Roose Bolton answered tersly, piercing Clara with his eyes.

Ignorant brat? Handmaiden? Even now insulting her seemed to be amusing him, though he didn't make a move to show whether he still recognized her or not. Some things never seemed to change.

„My Lord, that's my daughter, Clara. You may remember her." Her father tried to intervene. „Allow me to apologize for her behavior earlier today. Her emotions must've lead her astray from her usual impeccable conduct and mannerisms ."

Clara simply kneeled in front of them. „My Lords.." There wouldn't be one word of apology from her. If someone were to apologize, it was the Boltons for their impolite and rude behavior.

Now that her name was in the room, she just had to look at Ramsay to see if he knew now.

And he did.

There was this old wicked smile on his lips that she used to like.

„Well.. who would've thought she'd turn into an _oh_ so precious creature." Ramsay said sneering. The bastard lord got up from his chair and unexpectedly wrapped his arms around Clara - pulling her into a hug. This should feel different, she thought to herself. It wasn't the warm feeling she had expected or that she knew from the past when they had still been friends. His arms around her seemed more dangerous now that she knew how rough he could be and that he might turned into what she feared so much – a monster.

She forced a smile and laid her hands on his hips only shortly before she pulled away. He mustered her face with amusement.

„... Or that she would survive, for that matter." He said, finally finishing his drawn-out sentence. Clara couldn't tell if Ramsay tried to be funny for old times sake or if he was serious with what he said. Whatever it was, Clara wouldn't give him the satisfaction and show him the distress he was waiting for. She cleared her throat and turned away from him.

„As I understood there are important matters to discuss so we should get started, don't you think?" She answered, her words directed to Roose.

She could play the game that Ramsay put on just as good as he could if that was what he wanted. Unknowingly she stepped onto a very dangerous path.

„After my wife died, Clara took over as a sentinel of sorts. The council is small and we like to keep things in the family." Her father explained as he sat down at the head of the table. Clara remained standing next to her father.

Roose face looked rather displeased about how things were going. Ramsay on the other hand was amused and could barely mask his dirty grin. He enjoyed this way too much for Clara's liking.

„Roose, my old friend, why did you come here? Why now?" Hher father asked his friend in the politest way possible.

„Dark times lay ahead of us, Jylge." Lord Bolton answered. „I think we all know how things are in Westeros these days. Old allegiances are breaking and we all look for someone to form new alliances with."

Clara raised an eyebrow. „Allies? We? Is that a joke, My Lord?" She asked incredulously before her father could say anything else.

„We don't have more than fifty soldiers. Fifty soldiers with families they have to feed, that is.", she sstressed, shaking her head. „They wouldn't be of much use to you."

„Fifty men are fifty men.", Ramsay answered her. By now he was leaning leisurely back in his chair again, and was looking at her like she was nothing more than a useless child.

„Fifty unskilled men you would sentence to death for nothing!" Clara exclaimed louder than she had intended- her hands clenching.

„So, you're denying your service to the Warden of the North? Your service to House Lannister and the crown? Is that correct?" Roose inquired dryly.

„Of course not, My Lord." Jygle replied quickly. He was always too scared to speak his mind. Even now, with his men in danger, he couldn't speak up out of fear of his old friend. They used to speak with each other much more openly than this.

Clara wondered what kind of secrets her father kept from her. What made him so afraid of the Boltons, that he would give them anything without thinking twice?

„I thought so." Roose seemed pleased. „Well, it's been a long day. We'll give you time to think about it all."

Wasn't he nice? Clara thought sarcastically but didn't dare to say another word. The Boltons seemed displeased enough as it was.

„The handmaidens already got rooms ready for you, My Lord. They'll lead you to them", her father said as he got up to bow his head again.

The longer this went on, the more Clara lost respect for her father. They didn't have a lot of men, that much was true, but there was no need to act like Roose Bolton was the king himself. Especially since the King was nothing more than a boy.

The Boltons were lead out of the great hall by the handmaidens while Clara sank into her chair sighing. Just now she realized that all her muscles had been strained during the conversation.

„We have to do this, Clara."Her father whispered.

Clara huffed in response. „Why?" She asked. „We're friends, I know that but we don't owe them something like this, father. These men have been with us for as long as I can remember. You can't reward that by sending them into a war they cannot win."

„There are sacrifices to make during times like these. I know it's hard to understand but we don't have a choice this time." Jygle answered his daughter.

The blonde girl was shaking her head, her eyes on the table. „What's that supposed to mean? They'll understand, I'm sure of it. After all, they've been our friends. What do you think they'll do? Force us to be their allies?"

She finally raised her eyes, looking at her father in disbelieve. It seemed odd that her father thought the Boltons would harm them. They've never been enemies or a threat in her eyes.

„Let me handle it and promise me... promise me you'll stay away from Ramsay, Clara. That's the only thing I'm asking of you." Her fathers voice suddenly sounded harsh and made it clear that this was an order - not a request.

Nothing of what her father said made any sense to her.

„I know him since I've known how to walk. He may have gotten rougher but that's what the winter makes of all of us. I'm sure he won't hurt me." What an absurd thought, Clara thought.

Ramsay seemed more dangerous but on the other hand every man was dangerous and he wasn't a foolish boy anymore. Still, she wouldn't let the thought of him being anything else but her friend into her mind. The thought of losing yet another friend was much too hurtful.

„Stay away from him, Clara. That's my last word." Her father repeated. „

You were the one who told me I had to toughen up and you judge others for doing so?" Clara asked incredulously.

„I'm not going to discuss this with you any further. Do as I say. Just this one time.", was all that Jygle said as he got up from his chair and left the room.

Clara looked after him in disbelieve. No piece pf the puzzle seemed to fit together. Never before had she seen her father afraid of Roose Bolton. In this moment she wished her father would let her in and help him. It was not the first time that she thought going into hiding for all these years had been a mistake...

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	3. Dangerous Words

**03 Dangerous Words**

When Clara arrvied back to her room, she sat down on her bed. She tried to at least somehow process what had happened that day. The day wasn't over yet but it already felt like her entire world was turned upside down. Frustrated she fell onto her back and looking at the ceiling.

Right now she would've loved to talk to her old friend Ramsay.

When they were children, they told each other everything. Now it felt like he was a stranger. Her fathers words werestill echoing in her mind. Why did he sound so scared when he warned her? There was no denying it, Ramsay was indeed different and he acted like an arrogant arse. Yet, Clara was sure that her fathers trembling voice was an overreaction.

What worried her much more though, were all the lies of her father and the secrets he kept hidden for so long. For quite some time she had believed peace had arrived in Westeros - except for a few exceptions here and there. Jygle couldn't hide everything from her but now she'd begun wondering what else she didn't know. How much did he keep from her? How bad was the situation of the world, really?

She pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes as if that could stop the world from spinning somehow. Just in that moment she heard a knock on the door.

„Come in!" Clara said loud enough for the person outside to hear.

The door opened and her handmaiden Otilia stepped into her room.

„Otilia.. what is it?" Clara asked when she saw the slighty worried face of her handmaiden. Otilia had gotten out of breath and was gasping for air. She must've been in a hurry. „It's.. it's Lord Ramsay Bolton, My Lady. He asked for you... in the bathroom."

Clara raised an eyebrow. „In the bathroom?" She repeated not trying to hide her surprise. Her handmaiden silently nodded. „What does he want?" It was quite an unusual request. He could've easily met her at another place at the castle.

„Ehm.. he.. he wants you to bath him.", Otilia answered. Her cheeks were blushing and her eyes turned ashamed to the floor.

Clara almost laughed but she didn't want to make her handmaiden even more uncomfortable so she tried to hold in her giggling. „Why don't you do it? It's a handmaidens duty, not mine.", was her only answer but she wore a grin on her face when she said that.

„He asked specifically for you, My Lady."

„Fine.. I shouldn't keep him wait any longer then.",Clara said with a smirk. This felt more like the old times than the discussion on the great hall. „I will see you later, Otilia." Finally Clara got up from her bed and went on the way to the washing rooms.

* * *

As Clara walked through the corridors she could already see a man crouching in front of the bathrooms. It didn't take long for her to realize it was the man Ramsay had with him when he arrived in the castle this morning.

„Are you alright?" Clara asked when she was within earshot.

The man didn't show any reaction. He simply starred at the stone wall on the other side of the floor.

„Are you alright?" She repeated her question, louder this time.

The man finally looked her way. Looking in his face Clara took a step back. Never in her life had she seen such empty and lifeless eyes. Earlier that day she had only gotten a glimpse of him. Now that she got to take a closer look it was clear that this man was nothing than a shadow of what he might had been a long time ago. Every inch of his body was covered in dirt and brusises. Clara had to swallow a knot that had formed in her throat at the sight of such an injustice.

Slowly she kneeled down to him. „What's your name?" She asked with a soft voice. His lips started trembling as if he didn't quite knew what his name was. „It's fine, you can answer me. No one will hurt you here."

He starred at her but finally found his voice. A shaking and broken voice. „R.. Reek.." He slowly answered. „My name is.. Reek, … M.. Mylady.."

_Reek._

What an odd name. It certainly wasn't his real name, she could tell that much. „My name is Clara.", She introduced herself as she helped him stand up. „I will tell the handmaidens to let in a warm bath for you and find you into a room. I'm sure you're tired from the long journey."

Something in his eyes changed suddenly. Sheer fear grasped his eyes. Brokenly he shook his head. „No... no.. no... no.." He kept repeating. Clara was more than surprised by this reaction. She could only imagine what happened to him that made him so afraid.

„Everything is fine, trust me. It's all going to be alright." She tried to calm him. She reached for his arm but he parried her hand off. Confused she looked at him.

„H.. he wants me.. to stay here.. and wait..",Reek stumbled. „

He? Ramsay? There's no need to worry about it. I will talk to him." The blonde girl promised. She smiled at him softly and nodded when he finally let his guard down.

Clara turned to one of the soldiers guarding the rooms. „Please make sure our guest gets everything what he needs. I want him cared for." She commanded the men who only nodded and eventually took Reek with them. She kept looking after him as they vanished behind the next corner. Reek was probably fighting one of the toughest battles she had ever seen. The girl couldn't help but feel miserable from seeing living evidence of the many injustices that had taken ahold of Westereos.

* * *

The door to the bathroom opened squeaking. Hot steam floating from the tubs filled the air. Clara closed the door behind her and took a few steps into the room. Seeing was almost impossible through the steam. She had to cross half through the washing room before she could see Ramsay. He stood there with his back facing her, still fully clothed in his black leather.

„You're late." Ramsay complained as he turned to look at her. „Are you going to help me get out of these dirty clothes now? Or will I have to do that myself like everything else around this dull place?" There was no sign of a joke in his voice.

Clara rolled her eyes. „Are you to weak to do it yourself?" She asked cockily and took the last few steps to him.

„Maybe I just missed you." He replied with no sense of truth in his words. Slowly, she started to undo the ties that held his tunic together.

„Is that how things are going to be now that you're _Lord Bolton?" _Clara questioned sarcastically. Just a few hours ago he almost slit her throat open and now he missed her? As much as she still believed in her old friend, these words seemed like lies. Her eyes focused on the ties she was trying to unknot, her hands moved a little quicker now.

Suddenly, he laid a hand on her wrist. She teore her eyes away from her work to look into his face. Ramsays face had softened almost like he just now realized who was standing in front of him.

„I'm sorry, Clara but I swear I'm not lying to you. You changed, that's all." He said to emphasize his words.

For a moment she didn't say a thing. Clara tried to see the truth in his eyes but their narrow sea blue kept it all hidden. She sighed and continued her work. „I missed you too." She finally replied whispering.

Concentrated on untieing his clothes she didn't look up again but she could clearly feel his eyes trained on her. When she had finished her work she helped him pull the tunic off. For the first time she got to take a look on his naked chest - it wasn't quite what she had in mind. Last time she saw Ramsay he had been just a boy, barely able to hold a sword. There wasn't anything left from that boy.

Mesmerized her hand wandered to his linen slacks. Shortly before she reached the ties she stopped abruptly.

„I think you can do that part yourself." She said smirking and wanted to turn away but once again he grabbed her wrist.

„Did you become prudish?" He asked her amused.

„We haven't seen each other in much too lo-" Clara tried to explain herself as his grib got tighter. „Do it." He insisted, his tone leaving no room for an argument.

Incredulous she looked at him. Ramsay was serious with this. Seemed like he enjoyed his new position of power far too more than it was good for him. Clara kept looking into his eyes as she untied the slacks and just let them drop to the floor.

„Do I have to help the Almighty Lord into the bathtub as well?" She asked, clearly not enjoying this as much as he did.

Ramsay laughed tersely. „I think that much I can do myself.", he answered and let go of her wrist. The girl couldn't suppress a pained gasp when her wrist was free again. His grib had been so tight that it left burning red marks on her skin.

For a moment she turned her back to him. She closed her eyes and exhaled to cease the pain. In the background she could hear Ramsay climb into the tub. He let out a languorous moan as his body hit the heated water. That was a sound Clara had heard from men before in whole other situations. When she turned around Ramsay had sunken completely under the water, only his head poked out of the water's surface and reclined on the tub's edge – his eyes closed.

Both of them had grown silent. There was a sort of tension hanging between them. Many years ago they had been so close and now it was like Clara barely knew him. Though it felt like they were strangers, there was something else. Clara wasn't sure how to describe it. There was something hypnotizing about Ramsay. His boldness had a drawing effect on her. Yet there was something still bothering her...

„That man in front of the door.. Reek. Who is he?", she broke the silence.

Ramsay opened his eyes and looked her way. „You talked to him?", he asked unpleased.

„Not much.. I just permitted him a bath and a room to sleep in, that's all."

„You _really_ shouldn't have done that. That's not what he deserves." His voice was menacing, angry almost.

„If it's not what he deserves, why did you bring him here?", she asked. She took a little stool and pulled it to the tub to sit next to Ramsay. The steam of the water still warmed the air and left both their skins wet and beads of sweat on their faces.

„I brought him here to keep an eye on him." Ramsay was now looking at her. How was she supposed to know that his next words were filled with endless lies? „You know, he is a very dangerous man.", he continued explaining.

„He didn't seem dangerous to me. He seemed.. afraid.", Clara said while bracing her arm on the rim of the tub. Her fingers started drumming on the metal that kept the wooden tub together.

„That's because I made sure he only does as I please." A shiver ran down her back as her old friend spoke those words.

„You did this to him? You punished him?", she asked disgusted and wanted to move away from him but once again he was faster than her and grabbed her before she could move.

„The flayed man is on our banners.", he replied calmly.

„On your father's banners! You're not a Bolton. You're a bastard, Ramsay! Don't be like that! Don't be like _him!", _Clara almost yelled.

She didn't want to believe that he was capable of doing something as horrible as that. Something in his eyes changed. He got angry, she could see it. Of course, he did. Since she knew him all he ever wanted was to be accepted by Roose. He finally seemed to have made it.

„He killed the Stark boys. Innocent children. He burned them alive. He got what he deserved. It could've easily been one of us. Your future sons maybe or your sweet little handmaidens." He grabbed her neck and pulled her closer. Their faces were only inches apart. „Remember the dog that bit you? Remember how I had to beat it until it bled and couldn't yelp anymore so it would never hurt you again? Don't you remember how happy you were to have been protected? It's the same with Reek, Clara.", Ramsay said hypnotizing. Slowly he tucked a wisp of her blonde hair behind her ear. „Sometimes people have to be punished to eliminate a threat and to teach them a lesson. Doing that to them is really satisfying, believe me." A cruel smile was on his lips. Cruel and hypnotic.

The lies passed his lips so easily that Clara fell for every word. She slowly nodded. „You did the right thing then.", Clara said soft not yet knowing the manipulating power Ramsay had on her.

For too long Clara had been on her own. The little castle didn't hold much interest for her or anyone here. Life was quiet and slow. What did she know about the outside world? Politics never interested her much either. Ramsays life had surely been tougher than hers and so she believed him that he did what was necessary. She had acted tough in the great hall but beneath all that there was just a little girl who still missed her best friend and her old life.

„I'm glad to have you back..."

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	4. Trust

**04 Trust**

Before going to bed, Clara had thought about what Ramsay said for a very long time. Especially about what he'd said concerning Reek. Had she been too merciful with him? He was Ramsay's prisoner after all. And so, after contemplating everything he'd told her, she came to the conclusion that she'd made a mistake. If what he told her was true - and she didn't have a reason to doubt her old friend - Reek didn't deserve the kindness she had shown him. It was the dead of night when she had Reek woken up and thrown into the dungeons. With that decision made, she was able to fall asleep quickly and soundly.  
When Clara woke up the next morning, her room was flooded in a sunlight unusual for that time of the year. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity- she woke up smiling. Yesterday morning she had feared her entire life would take unexpected, unpleasant turns. However, her talk with Ramsay had calmed her a little. There were still secrets she had to figure out, and truths that had yet to be unearthed, but she was certain it would all end well. Maybe it was the newfound hope and happiness she was experiencing by having her old friend near that made her feel that way.  
Her happiness was soon spoiled when her handmaiden told her the bad news. They'd been wandering through the little gardens of the castle when her handmaiden had tentatively begun to speak.

"My Lady, I'm afraid to say I have something...unpleasant to tell you,"Analina had started."I know Otilia is often busy with important matters for your father, but I haven't heard from her since she'd gone to bed last night." Her voice sounded exceedingly disconcerted.

"Are you telling me she's missing?" Clara asked, and Analina silently nodded in reply. "Maybe she just got lost in the woods like she always does when she goes looking for herbs. But there's no need to worry, we'll find her,"she tried to calm her handmaiden.

Analina didn't seemed reassured. Clara tried not to let her concern become too overwhelming. She had to appear strong for Analina- though it wasn't easy. Otilia was a dear friend of hers and she hoped to have her back, safe and sound soon.  
For a moment neither of the girls said a word.

"What about these strange men, My Lady... can we really trust them?" the handmaiden asked carefully .

Clara stopped walking and looked at her handmaiden. "Yes, of course we can. I understand that you are worried. I have been as well, but trust me when I tell you there's nothing to be worried about." Clara reassured. Analina didn't look convinced.  
"What about him?" the handmaiden inquired further, her eyes wandering to Ramsay who was standing at the stable and getting his horse ready. "He seems so.. inhuman.."

Clara now had her eyes on Ramsay as well. He had a quiver slung over his right shoulder that was filled with arrows. His bow was clamped to the horse's saddle. Today his clothes weren't as fine as yesterday's . They were undoubtedly hunting clothes, and thus, allowed for a greater range of movement.

"I would trust him with my life.", Clara answered unflinchingly. "I don't want you to say something like that ever again. Do you understand me?", she said - austere.

Analina bowed her head immediately. "Forgive me, My Lady," she lamented.

It was rare for Clara to give her handmaiden direct orders. Normally their relationship was more friendly. Clara very rarely gave them strict orders, but this time was different. Analina's insinuations had made her angry.  
Without saying anything more, she approached Ramsay- who was still occupied with saddling the horse.

"You are up so early, My Lady?" He taunted, without looking at bowed curtly and smiled. "As are you, My Lord," she answered cheekily.

This interaction reminded her of when they were still young and had played 'lords and ladies'. Those days seemed to be an eternity ago.

"Are you off hunting?" She questioned, noting that Analina stood next to her but didn't dare look at Ramsay.

At long last, Ramsay turned to Clara. "The weather is perfect for it, don't you think?" He said with a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Before Clara could return the smile he'd skillfully mounted his horse.

"May I ask you a favor?", Clara asked as she looked up at him. "One of my handmaidens went missing yesterday. Would you keep an eye out for her? I think she may be lost in the woods."

Ramsay nodded. "Of course, My Lady. I'll certainly keep my eyes open for any sign of her," he promised. With that, he whistled, and two of his black dogs came running. They followed him as he rode out the gates.  
"Are you sure it was a good idea to send him to look for Otilia?" Analina asked cautiously.

"You wanted me to send someone to look for her and I did. Are you questioning my judgement?" Clara snapped.

Analina shook her head. "No, My Lady. I'm just really worried about her and I have never met Lord Bolton before," Analina tried to vindicate her careless inquiry.

"When he finds her, he'll bring her back. I'm sure of it,"Clara maintained .

And that was that.

* * *

That afternoon there was still no sign of Otilia. The entire atmosphere surrounding her family had changed ever since yesterday . There was a sort of tension between her and her father- with whom she hadn't talked to since their unpleasant discourse in the great hall. This was because he'd told her to stay away from Ramsay, and that still angered her.

Jygle had been negotiating with Roose Bolton since the early morning. Clara had been excluded from these negotiations, and was left frustrated. Since the day her mother passed, it was her who had been by his side all the time. Advising him, supporting him. Now that important matters had arisen , she'd been excluded. She was afraid her father would make a mistake.

He wasn't the strong warrior he had once been. The hardships of the world, and the loss of his wife had made him weak. Sooner or later he would give in to Roose Bolton. As much as she liked having familiar faces around again, these alliances wouldn't be any good for their house- if her family could even be called that anymore. Not even Clara could recall what their name had been. How would anyone else remember?  
"My Lady ... what was it like growing up in the Dreadfort? You never told me," Analina eventually broke the silence, ending Clara's frustrating thoughts that had kept her from eating her lunch.

"It was... good," Clara said slowly. "A rough place without a doubt, but I only have good memories of that time. I wish it would've lasted longer."  
"So you and Lord Ramsay have been friends for a long time, then?" The handmaiden prodded.

That was what the conversations between Analina and Clara seemed to revolve around lately. Analina wanted to know more about Clara's friendship with Ramsay, and Clara wouldn't deny her.

"As long as I can remember. We were just normal children. We played hide and seek in the armory and we always looked out for each other. Whether it was because he was frustrated because his father wouldn't accept him because he was a Snow, or if I had gotten myself into trouble with wild animals." Clara paused. There wasn't much more to tell. They had been children. What was there more to say about that?

But Analina wanted to hear more, so she obliged. "One time a dog bit me. It had been my own fault, though. The dog must've gotten tired of me poking and mocking it with a stick." Thinking back on this instance made her giggle. She had almost forgotten this story, but Ramsay had reminded her of it last night. "Anyway...Ramsay got it off me. He hit the dog with... I think it was a shovel- or maybe a dung fork... The dog let go, and Ramsay kept hitting it over and over again. Smashing its head in until it wasn't able to yelp anymore, let alone walk." For some reason that rather brutal story made her smile.

"He killed the dog?"Analina interrupted her, horrified.

"Well...no. We both did." Clara clarified, and then she remembered the end of the story. "We dragged the dog out into the forest and to a little river. I remembered that we'd looked for big stones- or anything else that would be heavy enough for what we'd had in mind. After we found a few rocks, we ripped parts of our clothes off and tied the rocks on the dog. Then..." Clara hesitated. "And then we just threw the dog into the river. I don't think the owner ever found the dog," Clara finished.

That part- the ending- she had forgotten until now. Silently, she took a sip of her tea. When she turned and looked at Analina, she was faced a set of terrified eyes.

"What? We were children, " she tried to justify the horrible thing they had done. Clara knew it was brutal how they had drowned the dog, yet, she didn't feel any remorse over it.

"I-I didn't mean to judge. I'm sorry, My Lady," her handmaiden apologized hurriedly. Clara didn't pay her much attention and continued rambling wistfully.

"Anyway, a year or two after that I got sick, and my parents decided that it would be better for my health to leave the Dreadfort. Honestly... I don't remember much of my illness. The only thing I do remember is that I was denied any contact with Ramsay. No letters, no visits- nothing." Thankfully, that time was over now. And this time her father wouldn't tear them apart again. She wouldn't let it happen.

"I understand that you're happy, My Lady," Analina reassured- although she sounded insincere. Her handmaiden seemed more afraid of Ramsay now than before. She even seemed afraid of Clara. The two young women sank into an uncomfortable silence again. Clara was in the past with her thoughts. She really missed her childhood.  
Clara spent the rest of the evening reading. There wasn't much else to do. Ramsay wasn't back yet, Otilia was still missing without a trace, and her father was still negotiating with Roose Bolton. Analina sat beside her, but in dead silence. The handmaiden had been more quiet than usual after their talk at lunch.

The uneasy silence was broken by a sudden, excruciating scream coming from the gates. Surprised, Clara dropped her book, and hurried to the window- followed closely by her handmaiden.

"Oh my god...", Clara whispered breathlessly.  
Ramsay was back. He walked through the gates alongside his horse. The saddle on his horse had been replaced by something else.

A mutilated body covered in blood.

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	5. A Bloody Present

**05 A Bloody Present**

The curtains were closed, and only a few candles in the middle of the table illuminated the room. Clara was sitting on her bed dressed entirely in black.

Otilia was dead.

Her handmaiden -her dear friend- was dead.

Gone.

Yet all she felt was numbness. No pain, no guilt. Not even sadness. She wasn't feeling like she was supposed to have felt. She wasn't feeling like she thought she would when one of her friends died.  
Right after Clara had realized that it was her friend's dead body on Ramsays horse, she had rushed out of the building -holding on to the hope that it wasn't too late. People tried to hold Otilia's mother back, she was screaming and crying, and had tried desperately to get to her daughter. But Maester Bestlin attended to the corpse before anyone else could get near it. When Clara asked Ramsay what had happened, he told her that he had found Otilia that way. Already ripped apart by wolves. She was in too much shock to ask any other questions, or to doubt his story even momentarily.  
A sudden knock on her door brought Clara out of her reverie. "I said I don't want to see anyone. Go away!" Clara asserted.

The very last thing she wanted now was to talk to somebody. Despite her protests, the door opened and her father came in.

"You missed the funeral," he said grimly as he shut the door.

Clara looked the other way- away from her father's gaze. Yes, she had missed the funeral. What good was she to a dead body? There was nothing she could do for her beloved friend now, apart from staring mournfully their tombstone. Her father sighed when he realized he wouldn't get an answer.

"Clara, dear, we need to talk-" he began, and hesitated abruptly before continuing cautiously. "-About Ramsay."

That caught her attention. Now she looked straight at him. "About Ramsay? Why?" She asked-perplexed.

Her father's expression told her that he wasn't the bearer of good news. "We have to put him on trial for what happened. You need to testify against him."

That was when her jaw dropped. He couldn't mean that! "For what? For finding a dead body? He didn't do it!", Clara protested angrily, and got up from her bed.

"Maester Bestlin found his arrow heads in her body, Clara! He was hunting her. There's too much evidence against him and we won't let an injustice like this pass without judgement!", Jygle declared- dead serious.

She hadn't heard him speak in that tone of voice in years. It just made her grow angrier. "Stop lying!" She lashed, and pushed everything that was on the table to the floor. Glass and vases shattered into a million pieces. "He said it was wolves. He found her that way. The arrow heads must have belonged to someone else," she reasoned more quietly- still in denial.

"Clara.. he's the one who is lying to you, not I," her father tried to convince her.

"I won't testify against him. You can't make me," she said, shaking her head as she sank into a chair. "Now get out."  
"You need to stop being that foolish little girl who believes everything that bastard says! He's not what you think he is and he never has been. Nothing he ever said to you was true, can't you see that? Do you really think you mean anything to him?" Jygle desperately tried to talk sense into his daughter.

Clara's eyes darkened. "I swear by the old Gods and the new that I'll tear you apart, and have each of your limbs skewered on a pike if I hear you say something like that ever again," she growled. The statement slipped out of her mouth before she realized what she had said. Yet she knew that she had meant every single word of it. She was shocked that thoughts of harming other people came so easily to her.

"Ramsay is a bad influence on you," her father lamented, growing more disappointed by the minute. "I always thought friends and family meant more to you than some bastard." The look in his eyes almost broke Clara's heart. Her father seemed so lost, but she couldn't fight what she felt.  
Jygle turned his back on her and walked to the door. "Forgive me...but this is for your own good," he deadpanned, as he stepped through the door and closed it with a slam.

Upon hearing the telltale clicking of a turning key, and bolts locking into place, Clara sprang to her feet. She jolted the doorknob- but the door wouldn't open.

"Father, let me out! You can't lock me in here forever! LET ME OUT!" She demanded, and slammed her fists against the door. Her father didn't answer.  
After kicking and pounding on the door for what seemed like hours- but was actually only minutes- Clara leaned her forehead against the wooden door in defeat.

Had she really stopped caring for her family?

* * *

It had been hours since her father had locked her up.

The sun had set.  
No one was telling her anything. Had Ramsay's trial started yet? Had they already killed him? It drove her crazy not knowing. She'd only spoken a few phrases to him when he arrived.

But the concerns that weighed heavier on her heart were ones she would rather not contemplate.

Had it really been him? Had he really murdered Otilia? If so, for what reason? Was there a reason at all? Even when she answered all of these questions with a 'yes'.. it didn't matter to her.  
Pacing up and down her room, she tried to calm herself. Attempting to sleep until someone hopefully let her out in the morning wasn't a possibility. She could barely hold still! Perhaps her father was trying to protect her, but her current state only made her more and more frustrated.  
She didn't know how much time had passed when she suddenly heard someone knock. Her eyes were trained on the door immediately. She didn't really know who she expected to appear, but it was definitely not... "Reek..", she murmured-surprised. Last time she'd seen him, he'd been down in the dungeons. "What are you doing here?"  
"L-Lord Bolton asked me to-to give you... something, My Lady...", the man stuttered.

"Ramsay?", she inquired hopefully . He winced at the sound of the name and shook his head. "N- no, My Lady. Lord Roose Bolton."  
Well, that really was a surprise. What could Roose Bolton possibly want from her? They didn't really get along when they'd become reacquainted the other day.

"So... what did he say? What message have you brought me from him?", she asked. She was immensely curious. "N-not a ...message, M- My Lady. Just... this...", Reek spat out - stuttering incessantly. He took a silver necklace out of his pocket and gave it to her.  
The chain was made of fine, luminescent silver. It was adorned with a flower pendant. At the center of the blossom was a black diamond. Memories flooded through Clara's consciousness. It seemed like some days of her childhood had been blocked from her mind, and now they had been set free again.

"Lord.. B- Bolton said... you'd... know what it is."

And she did.

* * *

_Clara hadn't been much older than ten. Ramsay was a year or two older, and they'd been sitting on the steps in the great hall of the Dreadfort. They'd watched their parents hand out presents to a one year old child- Dorell, Clara's angelic baby sister. The brat had just turned a year old and oh, how she hated that little monster. Always getting all the attention, and Clara now watched the spectacle before her unfold with barely concealed distain._

_"I hate her," she mumbled. "Cute little Dorell. All she ever does is drool."_

_She knew that Ramsay understood. His brother was treated the same - as if he was a saint. Clara tried to mollify him whenever his brother mocked him for being a Snow, while he was a true born. That made matters much worse for Ramsay._

_"You're still their heir. They can't do anything about that," Ramsay reassured- but it didn't help._

_"Heir to what? She's spoiling everything with her drool and pee and puke." Ramsay just laughed. "It's not funny!" Clara cried out and punched him._

_"That's not why I'm laughing," he explained between cackles. His laugh had a cold and evil tone. She loved it._

_"But, perhaps... I have an idea how to get rid of your... little problem," he continued ominously._

_Clara rolled her eyes. "We talked about this. They'll catch us," she reiterated._

_He merely shrugged, but after a few minutes of silence, Ramsay spoke again. "If you could do whatever you wanted with her, what would you do?"_

_They still sat there watching Dorell get spoiled rotten. She would turn out to be a brat if things didn't change- Clara knew it._

_"Bathe in her blood," Clara snarled. Maybe then- Clara thought- Dorell's glory would become her own._

_A few nights later -as the witching hour neared- Clara was fast asleep, when suddenly a hand covered her mouth- muffling her surprised shrieks. She started to kick to get her attacker off._

_"Hold still! It's me!"_

_It was Ramsays voice. Angry, she swatted his hand away. "Don't scare me like that!" She hissed. "You're not allowed to be here."_

_Ramsay grinned. " I'm planning on making this a better evening. I got something for you." He jumped out of her bed. "Are you coming?" He asked, while walking to the door._

_Clara was still sitting upright in her bed looking skeptical._

_"I'm dragging you all the way there if you won't come willingly."_

_She sighed. He was always so stubborn._

_"Fine...I'm coming," she finally grumbled, and got up to follow him._  
_Silently they walked through the dark floors of the Dreadfort. Only the moon lit their way._

_"Where are we going?", she pleaded for the millionth time._

_"Stop asking me or I'm doing it all on my own and you don't get anything," he retorted. That finally shut her up until they arrived at a room she had never been in before._

_"Close your eyes," he demanded, and she did as she was told._

_Now she was much too curious and she was afraid Ramsay would send her away if she didn't do as he wished. He laid his hands on her shoulders and steered her into the room. Then he turned her around so she was facing the door- her eyes still closed._

_"Don't you dare open them!" He ordered, yet again._

_"I won't, just hurry, please!" Clara blurted._  
_She could hear Ramsay move behind her. After a few moments of silence she felt a cold metal around her neck. She couldn't keep her eyes closed anymore, and when she opened them she saw her baby sister's necklace. A thin silver chain with a flower pendant with a black diamond at it's center. Dorell had just gotten it a few days ago._

_"But... isn't that...?" she started and turned around to look at him. Now she could see the rest of the room. There wasn't much, only a tub, candles and a table with a few things on it._

_"What did you do...?", she asked breathlessly._

_Ramsay was wearing a proud smile on his lips. "It's your name day. I wanted to do something special," he revealed._

_His eyes wandered to the table, and then she saw it. There was a little bundle on it soaked in blood that still dripped to the floor._

_"Do you like it?" He asked, all excited over what he had achieved, and he gestured towards the tub._

_For a moment Clara wasn't sure what he meant, but then she realized._

_Then she smiled._

_"I do... yes, I do," she murmured, smiling._

_Unflinchingly, she stripped off her clothes and climbed into the tub filled with the thick, congealing fluid. Relief flooded through her, and her troubles melted away, as she let her body sink entirely into the bloody water. When she resurfaced, she pushed her wet hair out of her face. The bloody water that trickled down her cheeks and forehead seeped into her mouth. She licked her lips reflexively. She should have felt disgusted, but she only felt pleased-immensely pleased._

_"I had to fill the tub with water as well or there wouldn't have been enough for a bath," he explained- disappointed. He was leaning against the tub's rim, and he peered down at her- now with an unfathomable expression distorting his features._

_He obviously would've liked for there to have been enough blood to fill the whole tub, Clara surmised. She gazed at him fondly and smiled. Ramsay appeared satisfied with her reaction._

_"I don't care, it's perfect," she reassured. Impulsively, she snaked her arms around him, pulled him forward, and kissed him briefly- but thoroughly._

_"Now, get in."_

* * *

Her sister's necklace was one of her last memories of the Dreadfort. How could she have forgotten _that_? How had she forgotten Dorell? The memory shocked her, but made her immensely happy. Her behavior during that time was inappropriate- she knew that- yet, she wouldn't have changed a thing.

Not a thing.  
With all these old memories returning, Clara was beginning to suspect that she wasn't who she had thought she was. She was, in fact, a completely different person than the one her parents had turned her into upon leaving the Dreadfort.  
"Tell Lord Bolton I'm really grateful for this," Clara said finally, and put the necklace around her neck. Right where it belonged. It really shouldn't have been around the neck of that stupid baby.  
There was still a question on her mind, though: Why had Roose Bolton given it to her? For what reason had he triggered her memories? So many questions, but -as usual- no answers. Before she tried to figure it all out, there was something else she had to do.

"Where is Ramsay now?" She asked Reek urgently.

"I- in the... dungeons, My Lady..." He answered.

It seemed Jygle really wanted a trial. But he would only lose his head if he did that. Roose Bolton wouldn't have his heir killed over the death of some handmaiden.  
"There won't be a trial. We're going to get him out."

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	6. Where Loyalties Lie

_**Dear readers,**_

**_I just wanted to say thank you before we head onto the new chapter.  
Thanks for reading, favoriting and following. I love reading your reviews to find out what I can do better or what you would want to see happening.  
For updates you can follow me on twitter: DeniseAnnaa._**

**_I hope you enjoy the new chapter! :)  
Lots of love,  
WickedCure_**

**06 Where Loyalties Lie**

Thanks to Reek, Clara was free to leave her room. She didn't know how, or from whom he'd gotten the keys- but it didn't matter for now. Time was running out and she had to stop the trial from happening.  
"H-how?" Reek stuttered as they walked through the hallways. "How.. a-are you.. gonna do that?"

Well, good question, Clara thought. So far she didn't have a plan exactly.

"I'm going to speak with my father again. He's nowhere near the strong leader he wants us all to believe he is," she answered plainly.

Right now she really wanted to talk to Ramsay, but that would have to wait a little while longer. He would know what to do, and so would Roose Bolton-but asking one of them for assistance wasn't an option. Her sister's necklace was proof enough that it was time to show loyalty to House Bolton after the betrayal of her father.  
It was past midnight already and the castle's occupants slumbered as they arrived at Jygle's room.

"I want you to wait here, Reek. If you move an inch, I will tell Lord Bolton of your disobedience. Do you understand?" She asked threateningly.

Reek nodded with fear filled eyes. She might need him later, and it was good to know whether he would obey her or not.  
Without knocking, she entered the room. Her father's guards never paid her much attention. He should really think about hiring more competent people.  
To her surprise her father was still wide awake and sitting at his desk, pouring over a pile of documents. He looked up when he heard the door.

"What are you doing here? Who let you out?" He inquired- displeased.

Clara didn't answer, and stepped closer to the desk he was sitting at. His eyes widened when he spotted the necklace hanging around her neck.

"Where did you get that?" He demanded, almost scared.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here because we need to talk, father," she quipped. "You have to let Ramsay go."

Her father sighed. "I'm not talking about this with you again, Clara. It has to be done."  
"It's a mistake, and you know that. Do you really think Roose will let you convict his son just like that? He will have your head removed from your shoulders," she tried to reason.

She really was worried about her father. Her mother died only a few years ago and her father was her last family member remaining. Times had been rough between them, but she still loved him. It wasn't only his life that was at risk either. Her head would be on a pike right next to his if she didn't get Ramsay out. The necklace was a reminder of where her loyalties lied.

"So, you've finally realized that he was the one who did it?" He asked hopefully

"No, of course not. He wouldn't lie to me." That was still something she firmly believed, although they hadn't spent much time together.

"Well, then there's nothing you have to be afraid of. If he honestly didn't do it, he won't receive any kind of punishment."  
Clara knew it was true, but something was telling her that it wouldn't end well for Ramsay either way. Even if he was innocent her father wouldn't stop pushing until he got what he wanted, and Ramsay was gone. Slowly, she was beginning to understand why.

"How are you even going to justify the interrogation? No one saw Otilia before she vanished, and no one was with Ramsay when he went hunting. There's no one who can tell you anything about what happened except for a leery, stupid handmaiden who greives over her friend. Or, perhaps you would like to question his dogs?" She sneered. Why couldn't he see how foolish this was?

"ENOUGH, CLARA!" He thundered- and that was enough to make her shut up. "This trial will happen and you will play your part in it. Do you understand?"  
She took one of the arrow heads that were laying on the table and considered it. They had the Bolton's sigil engraved on them. Her heart sank. That must be one of the arrow heads that they'd found in Otilia.

"What part is that?" She asked flatly.

All this time she had been holding onto the hope that it wasn't Ramsay. It wasn't the murder that hurt though. She could care less about him going around killing people. But this meant he killed someone who had been important to her, and it just didn't matter to him. Was that something she could forgive? For old times sake?

"Stand by my side, Clara. The Boltons wanted our help, and now they start murdering our people. They did the same thing with the Starks. We can't let this happen."

She put the arrow head back on the table and nodded. "Good night, father," she said tersely, and vacated the room.

Not for one moment longer could she have been in there to listen to his 'I told you so'. She sat down in the hallway, and finally the tears came. She hadn't shed a single one until now. Hell was breaking loose in her mind. Pain took over. Ramsay had looked into her eyes and had lied to her. He'd lied straight into her face without even blinking. He'd never done that before. And she? She was sitting on a dirty floor in the middle of the night and crying her eyes out, all the while trying to figure out a way to bail Ramsay out of his trial. Having him lie to her hurt more than anything else. More than her mother's death and more than Otilia's death. How dare he lie to her? How dare he take someone from her without her permission? After everything they had been through together as children.  
Clara took a deep breath and wiped away her tears. That was not how this was going to go. Her loyalties did lay with the Boltons now, and yes, she would remain loyal, but she wouldn't let her pain turn her into their puppet.

"Are you...alright..?", Reek asked carefully. She had forgotten that he was still there. Good to know he had listened to her and stayed.

"Everything is fine. We're going to go talk to Ramsay. Now."

* * *

The guards in the dungeons were still awake. The one thing they did right.

"What are you doing here so late, My Lady?" The guard questioned her.

"I'm here to see Ramsay Bolton. Let me through," she demanded.

"I'm afraid I can't, My Lady. Your father said we're not allowed to let you see him."

Clara sighed. Did he really think a guard would stop her? "Did he? Hmmm... I guess he was right about one thing. Ramsay does have a bad influence on me..." She sneered.  
Swiftly, she pulled the guards sword out of it's sheath and punctured the guard's throat. When she ripped the sword out, blood gushed from the gaping wound and spilled onto her night gown as the guard toppled to the floor.

"It always has to get messy, doesn't it?" She mumbled wistfully. "Come on, Reek. We're almost there."  
They walked to the very last cell where Ramsay was waiting. He must've been woken up by the sounds of the dying guard.

"So much for the men we would sentence to death for nothing by sending them into war," he teased when he saw the blood all over her.

Clara rolled her eyes. "You are not nothing, Ramsay," she said honestly.

On her way down to the dungeons, she had been so angry! Now that she looked at him, she'd calmed down a little. No matter how hard she tried, she never managed to hide her true feelings for him. Every time she laid eyes on him, he mesmerized her.

"Is that your plan to get me out? I don't think it'll work. The dead guard might become an issue."

"I'll just tell father you did it. He wants to get rid of you anyway," she joked. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of the body."

Ramsay didn't seem to find her joke very funny. Being imprisoned was a whole new situation for him, and she knew how much he liked to be free and do whatever he pleased.

"I'm going to ask you something, and don't you dare to lie to me again," she threatened, stepping nearer to the cell. "Why did you kill Otilia?"

Ramsay stood up from the stool he was sitting on, and walked over to her.  
"Well.. for fun," he responded, as if it were the most obvious thing.

"For fun? She was my friend, Ramsay! Couldn't you have chosen someone else?" She asked angrily.

"You can come with me next time. I'm sure you would enjoy it," he added- smiling.

"That's not what this is about. You lied to me. You never lied to me before." Yes, maybe she would enjoy hunting the way he did, but that wasn't why she was feeling so hurt. She couldn't think of a plausible reason for his lies. He sighed, reached through the bars and grabbed her face. He wiped a bit of blood out of her face with his thumbs. "Everyone is lies in this world, Clara...But you have no idea what's going on out there, do you?" He surmised softly.

Clara shook her head. It made her hate herself that her father turned her into such a stupid, naive, and ignorant girl. "I lied so as to not get into a situation like this, but now I need you to get me out. Can you do that?" He wondered,looking into her eyes.

"Promise you won't do it again without telling me about it first. Please. I want us to be together again like we were before." Showing her vulnerability could be a mistake, but she had to say what was on her mind. The desire to be with him had been mounting ever since he'd arrived, and now the words simply escaped her.

"And we will be, when you get me out." It didn't sound much like a promise- but it was enough for her now.

Anything that gave her a chance to be with him was enough for her. She depended more on him than she would ever allow herself to admit. Unfortunately, he was very aware of that.

"I will find a way," she promised.  
Ramsay let go of her, and she moved away from the bars. Clara walked to the table that stood by the wall. She swiped the booze that was left on the table by the guards. Some of them never learned. Drinking alcohol dulled their minds and made them weak. No wonder it had been so easy to attack that guard earlier. Clara poured the booze all over the dead body. Afterwards she took the torch from the wall.

"What are you doing?" Ramsay asked, since he couldn't see what she was doing from his cell.

"You like the smell of burned flesh, don't you?" She asked, and let the torch drop, so as to set fire to the body. That would be enough to make it look like a drunken accident. As she watched the flames devour the guard's corpse, she hatched an idea on how to save Ramsay.  
"I have a plan. But I'm going to need your help, Reek."

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	7. The Trial

**Dear readers,**

**I'm very sorry it took me so long to get the new chapter ready.**

**I'm having my finals at college this month so there isn't much time to write.**

**However, I have some good news! I'm finally working together with a beta reader **_HimmelreichLYNX _**who'll help me to improve my writing. I worked over all the chapters and re-uploaded them**

**Hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

**Much love,**

**xxx**

* * *

**07 The Trial**

Almost a week had passed since Clara had seen Ramsay. With the last guard doing a rather poor job, it had been impossible for Clara to go back again. It made her furious that her father placed so little trust in her. She'd agreed to the trial and she'd agreed to play her part in it.

What more could he possibly want?

The day of the trial felt odd from the moment she got up. Over and over again she told herself that everything would turn out fine, yet, it felt like her heart would jump out of her chest any moment. If there was ever a day in her life she wasn't allowed to screw up, it was today. Her hand tightened around her flower necklace.

"My Lady... we have to go." Analina interrupted her thoughts.

Her poor, miserable handmaiden - still refusing to wear anything other than black. Clara had never been a supporter of the traditions surrounding funerals. The dead weren't bothered by the living, nor should the living be bothered by the dead. Unlike the Greyjoys, she believed that what was dead would stay dead. So what did all the decorum matter? Well, it didn't. Not to her at least. Yes, Otilia had been met with a terrible fate, but wearing black wouldn't bring her back. Otilia was slowly vanishing into oblivion like they all would eventually.

"I'm coming," Clara responded, and followed her handmaiden into the halls shortly after.

* * *

The halls were already filled with people. House Bolton and every resident of her family's court. She knew all their faces, and was disgusted by their spitefulness towards the event. Many of them were just waiting to see Ramsay hang. Just you wait. Clara thought. All of this will be flying right back in your faces sooner or later.

With careful steps she climbed the steps to where the jury was seated. Her father, Roose Bolton, Maester Bestlin were already seated, one free seat remained - hers. She bowed her head shortly before sitting down. Her father glanced at her desperately - begging her to do as she was told. Roose Bolton on the other side pierced her with calculating and threatening eyes.

"Shall we proceed?" Maester Beltin asked impatiently - gaze scanning the jury members. All of them nodded in unison. Each and every one of them stained for different reasons.

"Bring him in," Jygle commanded.

The guard's reaction was immediate, and they shuffled out the doors to bring in the prisoner. Shortly after, the doors opened and the guards returned with Ramsay - walking in the middle of the procession of guards, and in chains. He didn't seemed bothered much by all of it. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it because he was sure he would get out. He _knew_ he would win.

Jygle rose from his chair and stepped forward. "We've gathered here today to determine the fate of Ramsay Snow." He started.

Ramsay cleared his throat to interrupt, but her father didn't pay him any attention and moved on with his speech.

"Who has been-" Again, Ramsay cleared his throat. This time Jygle stopped.

"Do you need a glass of water, Lord Snow?" He asked. Ramsays eyes twinkled.

"Bolton, My Lord. The name is Bolton," Ramsay reminded Jygle. "No matter the situation, shouldn't you pay respect to a House so much grander than yours, Lord..." Ramsay paused for a moment. "What was your house's name again?"

Suppressing a giggle, Clara covered her mouth with her hand - knowing that the situation wasn't amusing at all. Yet she thought it was rather funny. She could see her father's hands clenching into fists at his sides. To her surprise he seemed incensed. His eyes wandered to Roose Bolton as if to ask whether Ramsay's words were true. Roose nodded. Again, Clara felt happy for her friend to have finally been accepted by his father. So long he had fought for it. She just didn't know the price Roose's acceptance had cost.

"Well... Lord Ramsay Bolton is it then," Jygle continued displeased. Naming him a true lord instead of a bastard gave Ramsay too much power for his liking. "He's accused of the murder of Otilia Alevi, handmaiden to my daughter Clara of the House without a name. We will hear Analina Craon as the first witness."

Shyly Analina stepped out of the crowd. The girl seemed scared, as if just getting one step too close to Ramsay could kill her. Ramsay just looked at her curiously.

"Please tell us what you saw and when you saw Otilia for the last time," Jygle requested.

"I saw Otilia the night before she disappeared. We shared dinner as we always do when Lady Clara isn't in need of our company. She... she started to feel sick very early in the evening," Analina started – her voice was trembling and tears moistened her eyes. She had to swallow hard before going on."The next day she didn't show up. I met with Lady Clara in the morning for breakfast and we met.. Lord- Lord Ramsay Bolton outside, saddling his horse. He was about to go on a hunt on his own." Analina didn't have more to say.

It was a farce! What must the Boltons think of them now? Analina was their only witness and her story didn't connect any pieces of the puzzle at all.

"I'm don't see why we're talking to her when she clearly doesn't have anything to say." Roose voiced Claras thoughts. For the first time that day, she was thankful Roose was there.

"Nothing to say?" Jygle repeated. "Don't you think it's odd that she felt sick before going to bed?"

"Are you really considering poison?" Clara interrupted the conversation- amused. "Everyone knows poison is a woman's weapon. I highly doubt a House that is known for their strength like the Boltons would use such dirty tricks."

Her father had asked her to not act this way, but she couldn't hold back. Loyalties were more important than family, and her father's desperate attempt to blame Ramsay without any proof was ridiculous.

"I agree. I'd rather hear of Maester Bestlin now. Maybe he has something useful to say before we end this," Roose said - annoyed. Clara couldn't blame him. He came for an alliance and now his son was on trial.

Jygle sighed but nodded. "Maester Bestlin... please. Tell us about the marks on her body," Jygle demanded.

"Now this is getting interesting," Ramsay said-amused.

He glanced at Clara and grinned. She had to smile in return. For no reason whatsoever, she thought about how handsome and strong he looked in that very moment. He was a sick soul – without a doubt. But that was what seemed to connect them in a strange but equally beautiful way.

"I would especially like to hear about the arrow heads you found in her body," Clara questioned calmly – suddenly filled with an unprecedented serenity. They would be fine. They always had been fine.

"Yes, I would really like to take a look at them," Roose agreed.

As if on command, a squire stepped out of the crowd and handed Roose a small bag.

"These are the arrow heads we found stuck in her body alongside the bite marks. They have the sigil of House Bolton on them," Bestlin explained after he cleared his throat.

Roose took the arrow heads out and eyed them speculatively . Everyone watched him – eager to see his face paling when the Lord had to face up to this son's guilt. But the opposite happened. Lord Bolton grew angry.

"This ends here," Roose said coldly, and got up. The arrow heads fell to the floor. "Take the chains off. Now." He commanded.

Ramsay grinned in satisfaction. So did Clara.

"What are you doing? You're in no position to command my men!" Jygle shouted.

"Yes, I am!" Roose countered. "You're accusing my son of murder and using fake evidence to sentence him to death. Ramsay may have his eccentricities, but this is not how you treat someone of House Bolton. I would rather not have to prove it to you the hard way, Jygle."

The entire hall had grown silent. Now it was Jygle whose face was paling. He rushed to the arrow heads on the floor. He scanned them carefully. Over and over again, he turned them – searching desperately for the sigil that was nowhere to be found.

"I-It's not possible..." He stuttered. "They were there... the sigils were there! I swear it by the old Gods and the new! The sigils were on the arrow heads!" His voice was begging for mercy.

"Lord Bolton is right, father.. this has to end and it will," Clara declared sharply as she got up from her chair. Pleased with the trial's conclusion, she walked down the stairs and took the keys for the chains without saying a word. Smiling, she stepped towards Ramsay and unlocked the chains.

"You're a free man, My Lord." Clara was relieved it was over and had all worked out. Her plan worked. Reek had managed to exchange the arrow heads. Now her father was to blame, but it didn't matter to her. She couldn't feel anything but pure happiness.

Ramsay rubbed his wrists after the chains fell off. He wasn't used to being the one in chains. It was quite amusing for Clara to have seen him that way. In that moment she didn't care about anyone else in the room. She didn't care that people were looking at her. She cared even less about what her father was yelling at her in the background. They were all just echoes from afar.

The bastard Lord took her face between his hands – soft and not at all rough as they had been when they'd first met again.

"Very well done, Clara." He lauded with a dirty grin - the one she enjoyed so much. For the first time in a really long time she felt proud of herself. She did something right. She did a good thing – in her eyes. Saving her friend meant everything to her, and she hoped desperately that it mattered to him as well.

Clara laid her hands on his wrists – still smiling.

"We've always been a good team... you and I," Clara beamed.

"Yes...and that's how we will be again," Ramsay said, joyful about what was to come.

Clara leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes as his hand stroked her hair.

Finally, they were reunited.

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	8. Reunited

**08 Reunited**

Clara woke up the next morning lying undressed on her stomach. Only a blanket was covering her from the waist down. Upon opening her eyes she saw Ramsay laying right next to her, still fast asleep and as undressed as she was – his body covered by the same blanket. A happy giggle escaped her. Looking at him imbued her with utter satisfaction.

He looked so innocent while he slept. It reminded her of the boy she had once known. By now she had accepted that he wasn't that boy anymore. Still, he meant just as much to her – of not m uch more.

Last night had been memorable. There was lot of wine involved and she'd danced barefoot through the room while Ramsay watched her with amusement. She hadn't been this happy since her childhood.

Slowly she moved closer to him. Gently she placed kisses along his shoulder. When their lips had met again the night before -for the first time in years- it had felt like the chains that had captured her heart finally broke. It fanned a flame in her from which she had fought it had died a long time ago. Her lips had kissed every scar – old and new – on his body and so did he place his on every inch of hers.

* * *

"We've won!" Clara had sung the night before when they'd arrived back at her room after the trial, and a long ,unpleasant conversation with her father_. Jygle wasn't ablet to hold the facade of being a strong leader up anymore. His fear of Clara turning on him more and more was something he couldn't bear._

_She spinned around and glanced at Ramsay who'd just closed the door. _

„_Why are you looking so grumpy? We won! You should be happy." Clara said when she saw Ramsays moody face. Minutes ago he'd won a trial that he shouldn't have been able to win. Yet _his current behavior was not indicative of any such win having taken place.

„_I am. Your father should just really watch what he says to me the next time I meet him." He answered darkly. _

_The blonde girl only rolled her eyes. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her father now._

„_Can we please not talk about my father?" Clara begged. She filled two glasses with red wine and handed Ramsay one of those. „Let us celebrate." Wordlessly he took the glass and drank from it and as did she._

„_Tell me, how did you do it?" Ramsay asked - although it sounded more like a command. Turning away from him she took another sip from the wine._

„_It wasn't me really." She admitted. „It was my idea, yes, but it was Reek who exchanged the arrow heads." _

_That's why she needed his help. Everyone would notice her wandering around the castle but no one paid attention to Reek. He wasn't a threat to anyone. _Not even Maester Bestlin spared Reek a second glance when he'd snuck into his rooms.

_Ramsay grinned. Obviously he liked the idea of having such an obedient servant. _

„_I told him if he wouldn't do as I said I'd get really angry and that I'd learned a lot from you. He didn't even think twice about it. I have no idea what you did to that poor man but it worked." Clara explained. Without Reek she could've never saved Ramsay. She liked the irony of that. The man who couldn't save himself had helped saving the one who'd destroyed him. _

_Out of nowhere she felt his hand pushing her hair back to expose her neck. She took a sharp breath when his lips touched her neck. For a short time she lost herself in the moment. His hand wandered over her hips to her stomach up to her breasts – grapping them roughly. _ That was when she regained her mental clarity. She pushed his hands aways and freed herself from him.

„_We can't.. I can't." She stuttered as she looked at him – his eyes gleaming with lust. Her heart beat heavely against her chest. „I'm... I'm betrothed to someone else. I'm sorry." Clara barely got the words out. She had known for a while now but saying it – and saying it to him – hurt. Even if he didn't feel the same honest affection she did, it hurt to get torn away from him because of a wedding her father arranged and she'd never agreed to. _

„_What did you say?" Ramsay asked incredulously – the lust turning into anger. Clara had to swollow hard._

„_I'm really truly sorry.." She whispered. For a long time she'd thought tradition wouldn't mean anything to her but no matter how badly she wanted Ramsay in this very moment she wasn't able to do it. She wouldn't be the same anymore afterwards. She wouldn't be able to forget and would have to spend her entire life with a man that wasn't him. _

„_My father arranged it a while ago. It's some Lord from around here.. I've never met him before." Desperately she tried to explain herself as Ramsay stepped towards her. With every step he seemed to grow angrier. For every step he took forward she took a step back until she stood at the edge of the bed. _

_Ramsay pushed her onto the bed and held her down by grabbing her wrists truculently. He was on top of her and didn't give her the possibilty to move an inch. Forlornly she attempted to get him off her again by pushing her right knee against him. For a short minute he let go of one of her wrists to grab her knee and twist it. A sharp pain streaked through her leg and a silent scream escaped her._

„_Don't fight me." He threatned with a whisper. Fear was talking ahold of her. Never before did he treat her like that._

„_Ramsay.. please. Let me go." With her hand free she tried to push him up and away by placing her hand on his chest._

_He pushed her legs apart and positioned himself in between them. _

„_What are you doing?!" She gasped. _Yet, as much as she wanted to hold it back, she couldn't help but let out a lustful moan when she felt him start moving against her.

„_Don't tell me you don't enjoy this." Ramsay sneered. _

_This time he let go of her legs and hit her hard in the face. The burning pain and shock that tore through her took her breath away. His punch had been so hard that her head snapped to the other side. Her cheek slowly turned a deep crimson. It felt like a small part of her died. The good part that her father tried so desperately to keep in her._

_Clara looked in his eyes. There was a madness in them she hadn't noticed before. Ramsay enjoyed this. He enjoyed hurting her. But did she enjoyed getting hurt by him?_

_Next he grabbed her by her throat and squeezed. _

_She gasped for air._

„_You are mine." He whispered in her ear. „You belong to me and only me. Do you understand?" _

_She just looked at him and wasn't able to say one more word. He pushed her harder into the mattress for her lack of response _

„_You have always done as I said and that's how it is going to be again. You do as I say. You belong to me." He repeated dangerously._

„_Always.." Clara breathed heavily. „Always and forever, yes.. please let me go."_

_And finally he did let go. Air was filling her lungs again making her cough. She turned away from him but wasn't able to escape. Ramsay was still between her legs. Slowly she sat herself up a little. Her body was still shaking in fear. Never had she been so afraid of him. Usually she liked watching him be violent but she certainly didn't enjoy being treated like that._

„_Why did you do this..?" She asked when she finally found her voice again._

_Carefully, he framed her face with his hands. For a moment she wanted to back away but she was afraid of doing so. She was afraid he would hurt her again._

„_I have to teach you to behave, Clara. But I'm sure you're going to be a much faster learner than Reek, right?" Now his voice sounded soft – caring even. „I just want you to be with me and for that you have to know the rules. That's all."_

_Clara wanted to believe him so badly. That he did all of this so they could be together. It was all she wanted. Imagining him leaving again hurt. Imagining having to spend her life without him hurt much more. Now she knew the question to her answer. Did she enjoy being hurt by him? Yes, she did - if it was what it took to be with him._

_Once again she lost herself in the madness of his eyes. Her fathers voice echoed in her head. Ramsay wasn't good for her. Ramsay was a a bad influence. But was he really? _

_She freed herself from hin only to grab her herself and press her lips against his. This was all she needed. All she wanted. For so long her father tried to turn her into a little perfect princess. With Ramsay here – with this kiss - her true nature was finally set free again. _

_Ramsays mood changed all the same the second their lips touched. Somehow he must've felt that she was back. That she was turning into her old self again. The tenderness he had shown before vanished. Passion overtook both of them. The last time they had touched each other that way seemed an eternity ago. All her worries vanished into thin air as they lost themselves in their pleasure..._

* * *

For years Clara wasn't aware of just how much her father had changed her nor did she know how he did it. Memories of the better days slowly came back to her. Nothing could spoil her happiness as she laid next to the man that meant the world to her. Not even the man himself, no matter how badly he had treated her. There was no need for it anymore. She knew where her place was.

Her kisses slowly wandered up his neck until she eventually reached his lips. Ramsay only responded with a quiet groan as he woke up. Clara laughed.

„Good morning, Lord Bolton.." She giggled amused.

He rubbed his eyes and slowly got up – supporting himself on his elbows. Ramsay still looked tired which wasn't a surprise really. The night had been long.

„Mhm.. I like the sound of that.." He replied as he looked at her - wearing a sort of happiness on his face that made Clara smile back at him. Never before had she seen him happy. Not like that at least.

„As do I." The blonde girl sat up entirely only to rest against his waist – tempting him to let his eyes roam over her naked body. His hands caressed her legs up and down.

„You never told me how you got that title." She continued – interested in hearing that story.

„Father gave me the chance to prove myself a true Bolton." Ramsay started to tell his story - a story he was proud to tell. „He instructed me to conquer Moat Cailin and win their lands for us. He promised me if I did so, I'd be a true Bolton.. and I did."

Clara hung onto Ramsay's every word. How she would've liked to see that! She could only imagine the blood bath it had become.

„Tell me more." She begged, leaning closer to him to aspirate kisses on his chest while his hands stroke over her legs up to her butt. A moan slipped through er lips inbetween kisses as his fingers dugged into it.

„We lulled them into a sense of security." Ramsay continued – his eyes now closed and just enjoying the feeling of Claras lips indulging his naked skin. „And then.. in the moment they didn't expect it... we flayed them all." He let out a short, sadistic laugh. „They honestly believed we would save them."

Imagining him doing his work drew her in even more. She made him shut up by sealing his lips with hers in a passionate kiss. Always had she been attracted to the forbidden. In response, his hands moved up her back to lift her up a little and push her her back into the mattress – now he was on top of her again. He clearly enjoyed that position much more.

Without warning he pushed himself roughly into of her. Her hands grabbed the sheets out of surprise as she let out a loud moan. Every rough thrust was accompanied by lustful gasps from both of them.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted them.

„Whoever that is.. I'm going to rip their head off if this isn't important." Ramsay growled. Disappointed, Clara sank into the sheets.

„Come in!" She demanded – not thinking about moving a bit from the pleasing position she was in.

The door was opened carefully. Clara had to look at the person upside down from where she was laying. It took her a moment to realize it was Analina who interrupted them.

Her handmaidens face was burning red as she laid her eyes on her and Ramsay – both covered in sweat and gasping for air. Analina covered her eyes with her hand as fast as she could.

„My Lady.. I'm so sorry.. I didn't mean to.. interrupt." Analina stuttered.

„Just say what you want." Clara commanded - annoyed.

The handmaiden nodded quickly. „Both your parents have wished to you see at breakfast, My Lady." Analina said shyly. Clara only sighed in reply. She was not in the mood for breakfast. Her appetite laid somewhere else.

„Tell them we're coming when we're done which could take a little while. Until then I don't want to be disturbed again and whomeber dares to knock on that door will have his hands removed." Ramsay replied coldly before Clara could say a word.

„Of course, My Lord. I'm sorry, My Lady." And so, the door closed again.

Claras attention returned to Ramsay – whom she could still feel inside her. She could see that he was angry.

„Don't pay attention to her.." She asked of him while caressing his body to get him in mood again. Stopping really wasn't an option for her now. The desire of feeling him all over her was much too strong.

Eventually she got Ramsays attention back. Softly she smiled at him as he kissed her again and they lost themselves in their sadistic love once more.

* * *

_Thanks to my beta-reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	9. The True Self Emerges

**09 The true self emerges**

Having been consumed entirely by their obsession of one another, Clara and Ramsay almost missed the breakfast they were invited to. When they arrived at the great hall, Roose Bolton and her father were equally displeased - though for different reasons. It was obvious that her father was more upset about her spending the night with Ramsay than her being late. Roose on the other side seemed to be indignant because they arrived much too late. He wasn't a man who accepted disobedience.

„You're late." Roose noted.

„My apologies, father." Ramsay responded with a dirty grin. „We've been.. busy."

„So we've heard. Sit down. Both of you."

Clara squinted angrily at her handmaiden. Instead of formulating a lie Analina just told them the truth. Which could only mean her father would take her aside later to give her another one of his sermons. Analina bowed her head in apology. Clara only sighed and took place next to Ramsay.

From that moment on the breakfast was rather quiet. No one dared say a word to break the silence before everyone was finished. The room was only filled of cutlery scratching across plates. Clara avoided looking at her father throughout the entire breakfast. Instead she scanned Rooses face. She still hadn't gotten an answer as to why he had given her the necklace. It was something she needed to thank him for.

„Lord Bolton, how long are you planning on staying?" Clara inquired since the painful silence didn't seem likely to end otherwise. „Are the negotiations going as planned?"

The girl couldn't help but nag. After all, she was angry about not being involved in these negotiations. More and more she appeared to lose her fathers trust. If he ever had any trust in her at all, that was. The longer she spend around the Boltons the more she became aware of just how much her father had tried to form her into the daughter he always wanted to have – an honourable and gracious one. She was more than happy to bring an end to that false version of herself.

„Negotiations are going very slow." Roose answered – annoyed by the circumstances. „I've decided that it is time to conlcude them."

„Roose, what are you saying?" Jygle exclaimed in shock. Whipping his head around so as to face Roose.

„I'm saying that I'm done begging, Jygle. More of my men will arrive soon. Be thankful that your little castle is the perfect spot to hide and build up force in secret. We'll use that." Roose explained his plan coldly – not leaving room for any argument.

Clara and Jygle were surprised all the same. The only difference being that it was a good surprise for Clara. It meant the Boltons would stay. Ramsay would stay. Her father on the other hand gaped at Roose in shock. For him it meant losing everything he had build up here.

„You can't do that! I'm still the Lord here!" Jygle shouted. He got up from his chair and slammed his hand decisively on the table. Roose didn't flinch. Neither did Ramsay and Clara.

„You're not a Lord any longer, Jygle. Try and fight me and your men will suffer. Ramsay would be more than happy to have another … object of amusement."

Ramsay nodded in approval. His eyes gleaming maliciously at the thought of a new person he could torture.

As much as Clara was angry at her father, she wanted to help him get out of this situation. Jygle was pale and scared. More scared than she had ever seen him.

„There's nothing to worry about, Lord Bolton. We're honored to provide you and your men a new home." Clara answered instead of her father. He wasn't capable of coherent speech and Roose must know that her words were honest. Things were going back to normal. They would live together again and maybe – maybe – return to the Dreadfort again.

„I will have rooms set up for everyone." Clara concluded. And that would be that.

„I knew we could count on you." Roose said smugly – knowing things would go his way.

Sometimes Clara wondered if it was really that obvious that it was her who was in charge most of the time and not her father. Other times she turned sad thinking of it. There had been a time when she had admired her father.

Carefully she took her fathers hand.

„Sit down, father. It's all going to be alright. Please, sit down.." She said soft.

Jygle nodded slowly and sank back in his chair.

For a brief moment she stroke the back of his hand - hoping it came off as a comforting gesture. He tried to form a smile but failed. Why couldn't he just give in? The Boltons were their friends but she knew they wouldn't think twice before hurting him to get what they want. No matte how often she thought about it, she wasn't able to figure out why her father put up so many walls.

Moments later she could feel her fathers eyes glued to her red cheek – the redness being caused by Ramsay hitting her the night before. Then Jygle's calculating gaze moved downward and paused on the red marks on her neck.

„Clara, dear.. what happened?" He asked worried.

Just before he could touch her cheek she parried his hands off. Ramsay's punch had been so hard that it was still sore to the touch.

„It's nothing." She answered quickly.

Jygle sighed and shook his head. Next to her Ramsay was grinning. He didn't even need to say something to make her father angry. He enjoyed the intriguing turns the situations he'd created had taken. Clara shared his sentiments - to an extent - but her feelings of concern for her father were still in her way of letting go completely.

„I think it looks really good on her, doesn't it?" Ramsay interrupted mockingly as he wrapped his hand around Claras neck – his thumb stroking one of the effusions of blood on her throat. The pain caused by his touch was everything but hurtful. Spending her life covered in bruises wasn't necessarily what she was looking forward to - but she knew it wouldn't always be that way. Ramsay would never hurt her only for the sake of seeing her suffer. She refused to believe in that.

„I'd like to speak a word with my daughter - in private." Jygle commanded with the last ounce of strength he had in him. Yet, he held much anger towards Ramsay for treating his daughter like a punching bag.

Both of the Boltons exchanged looks. Ramsay especially was enjoying the predicament, and didn't really plan on leaving the room. Nor did Clara want him to leave.

"Fine," Roose eventually agreed. "There's still much for my son and I to discuss." Then he turned to Clara. "Please come and visit me in my rooms once you're done here."

„Of course, My Lord." Clara answered. She would much rather have that talk now instead of talking to her father. Would she finally get the answeres she was looking for?

Ramsay nodded in acquiescence to his father's request, but didn't get up from his chair immediately. Instead, he leaned towards Clara and brought his lips - passionately - to hers once more. She knew he mostly did it to upset her father, but she enjoyed the sensation of his lips moving languidly against her own too much to put much thought into it.

Reluctantly, Ramsay let go of Clara, knowing that if he didn't do as his father told him he might lose what he had recently won – his claim to the Bolton heritage. Seeing him trapped - caught in this fragile state - between needing his father's acceptance while constantly fearing it being ripped from him was something Clara wanted to change. All his life he'd tried so desperately to get his father's attention, and now he was like a dog on Roose's leash. Together, the father and son left the room when Ramsay finally let go of Clara.

The minutes that followed passed in silence.

„Did he do this to you?" Jygle asked - worried.

„What does it matter?" Clara looked at her father. „The bruises will disappear. Don't be worried. I'll look pretty again once the Lord you have in mind for me shows up here."

She didn't even try hide her true feelings about the situation. A few das ago she had accepted that she would marry someone she had never met before but it had all changed. Now it was the worst thing that could ever happen to her. It sounded akin to being put into a gilded cage.

„It is in your best interests, Clara. I thought I would give you a good future with this wedding arrangemant but now I'm giving you a future in which you can live - and stay alive." He argued. The way he tried to protect her was almost cute.

„He wouldn't hurt me." Clara denied – shaking her head.

„He already did! Look at you!" Her father yelled at her. „Why don't you want to see how toxic he is? Especially for you. They invaded our home, killed your friend and now they're taking everything else away. You can't let that happen. It's not how I raised you."

Clara huffed.

"You manufactured my behavior. You were the one who manipulated me all these years. You manipulated me into forgetting who I am and the things I've done. You only contrived the way I acted. You never created who I was in the past - my true self - but I've become that once again. And there's nothing you can do to erase what I have unearthed about myself. I have no desire to be what you want me to be." Her voice was eerily calm. Desperately, she tried to make him understand. "You're the only family I have left, father, and I love you. I really do. I will do as I'm told in regards to that wedding, but my loyalties lie with the Boltons now."

Marrying an unfamiliar man was still not something she liked very much but it was something she couldn't change anymore. Begging Ramsay or even Roose to help her get out of the arrangemant wasn't anything she thought about for a second. She wished nothing more than them intervenig but she would lose the little respect of them she had.

„You always worshipped him." Jygle sighed - disapointed. „Are you really putting them over your family now?"

„You know.. Sometimes I'm not so sure who the enemy is anymore." Clara responded coldy. In the last few days it has gotten hazy in regards to whose side she should pledge herself to. Her family manipulated her but the Boltons had come solely because they needed her – or something else. The only thing she knew at this very moment was that her feelings for Ramsay Bolton were as pure as any feeling could ever be. There was an understanding between them that didn't need many words.

Her words hurt Jygle. She could see it in his eyes. It seemed like something shattered inside of him.

„Are those really your words or are they his?" Her father wanted to know – hoping she wasn't slipping through his fingers.

Clara smiled. „They are mine." she stated evenly. Then the blonde got up from her chair to whisper in her father's ear - her voice taking on a sly tone. "All of your dirty little lies and walls and manipulations will come crumbling down, father. You brought this on yourself by trying to turn me into what you wanted Dorell to become. I may have bathed in her blood, but that didn't make me her. Neither can you turn me into her." The words escaped her quickly - without her putting much thought into them. It was a truth that lived deep inside of her ever since she'd found out how much he had lied to her all these years.

„It's time for me to figure out who I am."

She paused to place her lips on his forehead. „Please try to understand." Clara begged him softly. There was something inside of her that she needed to find. She needed to know what her father had hidden from her so desperately.

„Don't lose yourself in the darkness, Clara. The path you're going on is dangerous." Jygle warned her. Only slowly he seemed to understand that he had to let this happen. He had to let her see her true self – hoping she would realize that she doesn't want to be the person she was turning into.

„Maybe I belong to darkness."

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


	10. Going Nowhere

**10 Going Nowhere**

_Maybe I belong to darkness._

Clara's own words echoed in her head while she walked down the hallway to Roose Bolton's room. Darkness felt a lot like home lately. Her shadows grew taller – threatening to swallow her whole. The thought of that was oddly comforting. Rules didn't apply to her anymore, though she wasn't quite ready to leave her remaining family behind. Yet, she knew that one day she had to do exactly that.

Upon arriving at Roose's room, Clara was greeted by his guards and let in shortly after.

The Boltons hadn't been around for long but they had surely made themselves at home quickly. Roose sat on a giant wooden desk – scanning a battle plan of sorts on a table in front of him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something important, Lord Bolton," Clara greeted Roose while bowing her head slightly.

"The only thing you're interrupting are my son's attentions towards his responsibilities as a Bolton," Roose replied, smirking.

She didn't know how serious his words were but decided quickly not to let herself be irritated by them.

"Weren't you the one diverting my attention towards him with your little gift?" She countered – alluding to her sister's necklace which was the one thing that brought her memory back.

Rooses smirk deepened.

"Please... take a seat, Clara." Suddenly he sounded much friendlier. The meeting was beginning to feel like a test. A test for what, she didn't know.

Clara only nodded and sat down on a chair in front of the desk. "Am I here to talk about Ramsay, Lord Bolton? If you want an apology for last night, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you," Clara finally responded. Last night was nothing she would ever apologize for. Last night her deepest desires were fulfilled.

Roose shook his head. "Don't worry about that. It's not why you're here. There's something more important to address first."

Curious, Clara raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?" The more she thought about it, all the more suspicious she grew about the entire visit. Her family had nothing to offer her – not anymore.

"Ramsay let me know that you're going to marry a young Lord within a fortnight. Whom, may I ask?"

The question made her sigh- frustrated. So often she pushed the thought of that all away and yet someone always brought it back. Thinking about the wedding made her sick. There was no way out of it. "I don't know. Father arranged it a long while ago. Never met him before but if I recall it correctly.. .his name is Ethan Forrester, Lord of Ironrath," Clara couldn't help but sound annoyed.

"He's marrying you off to a child?" Roose asked in surprise and mild amusement.

"So it seems... yes. Not that I had any say in it whatsoever."

"A useful child, that is," The Lord added – appearing more interested in the situation than before. "Shortly after the death of Robb Stark, Ramsay had an encounter with the Forresters. It didn't go too well."

Clara laughed. "I've heard as much. The Whitehills got control over the Ironwood and ruined it, if I'm not mistaken?"

Not to long ago Clara had a conversation with Maester Bestlin about the matter. A Forrester squire angered some Bolton men, and it had all ended in quite a mess. Talia Forrester was taken by Ramsay and never seen again. Ryon Forrester lived as a ward of Lord Whitehill ever since.

Roose huffed.

"Unfortunately yes," he crawled. "The Whitehills were never useful except for on the battlefield. We should've left the harvesting to the Forresters. It's not a mistake I will make again. And neither will you."

His words were a command. Just as the necklace had been a command. Slowly it started to bother her that she was being used as a puppet by Roose Bolton.

"You didn't come here to strengthen your army," she declared. How hadn't she notice it earlier? Their men weren't worth much. To be honest, they weren't worth anything. The soldiers hadn't been on the battlefield in years. Clara wasn't sure if any of the soldiers could even hold a sword anymore.

Roose was grinning as if he had been waiting for that moment far too long for his liking. How could she possibly have been so stupid? How could her father have been so stupid?!

"You know, you remind me a lot of your mother. She was smart too – and beautiful," he sneered sneakily.

Clara only rolled her eyes and got up from her chair. She wasn't in the mood for that kind of a conversation. Her mother had been a taboo topic for a long time. Nonetheless, his words surprised her. Obviously it was well known that both families had been friends for a long time. It was the choice of his words that astonished her.

The girl walked to one of the windows to shift her focus to the clouds drifting by.

"Just tell me what you want, My Lord," she demanded sternly. Maybe it wasn't for her to speak to Roose Bolton that way, but letting him play his games with her whatever way he pleased was unacceptable.

His steps echoed through the room as he walked towards her. She felt his presence keenly behind her – close. So close she could almost feel his warm breath on her skin. Shivers of discomfort ran down her back. She folded her arms in front of her chest, her fingers digging into her flesh.

"There has been a change of plans, fortunately," he started – whispering in her ear. "I need you to do something for me."

Quickly, Clara turned around and stepped away from him. For some reason, the situation grew more threatening by the minute.

"And what would that be?" She asked – wearing arrogance as protection.

Roose laid his hands on her shoulders. "Bring us the Ironwood. Good and usable Ironwood that was manufactured correctly."

They looked straight into each others eyes. Clara realized what all of it meant. Getting the Ironwood successfully to the Boltons meant she would have to kill her soon to be husband – Ethan Forrester. Killing a handmaiden or a guard wasn't relevant. Killing a Lord was another matter altogether. Not that she feared for Ethan's life – she was afraid of losing her own head for loyalty.

"If you succeed, I can grant you your greatest wish," he promised.

"And what is that?" She whispered, eager to hear what Roose thought that her greatest desire was.

"My son." For a moment he paused, reached out and stroked her arms - a hollow gesture of fondness "I'll let you come home. You can return to the Dreadfort and spend the rest of your life happily ever after."

It really was one of her greatest desires. Ever since she left the Dreadfort she had longed to return - to return _home_. She was neither interested in politics, nor was she interested in the game the big houses were playing. Her heart's desire was to return home – no matter the cost. Yet, she had her doubts about the deal she was making.

"Ramsay has a will of his own. You know as good as I that he cannot be controlled." Roose would know that. Reek surely hadn't planned to end up like he did. Roose was a cruel man, yes, but compared to his son, Roose was an innocent little lamb.

"Not even by you," Clara added finally in a hushed tone.

After what felt like an eternity, Roose let go of her. "Oh, he will do as I say. Don't worry about that," he promised, "do we have a deal?"

* * *

Thoughtfully, Clara watched her lover sitting on a chair and drinking beer while she still lied - naked - in bed. It bothered her that he had already slipped on articles of his clothing. She would've much rather kept him in her cozy bed for a little while longer. Ramsay though, seemed to be somewhere else entirely - a pensive, distant look across his face.

"I don't want you to leave tomorrow," Clara complained carefully – knowing Ramsay wasn't one to take complaints very well. Especially complaints like these. It was naive and childish, but last time they'd separated they hadn't seen each other for years.

He took another sip from his goblet before he laid his eyes on her. "You should come with me then," he offered - an offer she would've gladly taken if it wasn't for her father. The girl wasn't in the mood to be locked up in her room once again. That was something she detested far more than waiting for Ramsay's return.

"You know, I can't leave this place. Not yet."

Clara sighed and rolled over to lay on her back. How frustrating it all was. Truth be told, her life had been easier without the Boltons in it.

Ramsay let out a long, exasperated breath and got up from his chair only to take a seat on the bed. "I won't be gone for long," He promised, and she knew he spoke the truth. It would only take him a day or two to collect his father's troops and lead them to their objective.

"I never knew you could be so... clingy," he mocked her with a cocky grin. She rolled her eyes and got up to hit him.

"Shut up!" Clara laughed. Yes, she was clingy. Clingy and maybe a little afraid of losing him all over again. Never would she say that out loud, but the feeling was ever present.

Ramsay joined in her laughter. She loved to hear him laugh. It was such a rare sound - yet it made her heart beat a little faster.

He took her hand to interlace their fingers together momentarily. Clara glanced at their hands – hands that had done many cruel things and would only continue to do so. To get her attention, he freed one of his hands to grasp her chin to make her look directly at him.

"You'll survive. If not... I have wrongly placed my trust in you."

His dirty grin made her furious.

"Very funny," she growled.

Without warning he placed his lips gently on her forehead. She closed her eyes and tried to capture and internalize the moment. It was a rather unusual thing for him to do. However, it gave more comfort than she had experienced in a long time.

Once more he stroked her cheek before finally letting go.

"I have something for you," he said suddenly and got up.

Surprised, she looked at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. "A present? Why?"

Ramsay didn't answer her question. He took a shiny object out of one of his pockets. "Close your eyes."

Annoyed, she sighed before doing as he said. Why did he always have to act so goddamn mysterious with all of his special presents?

For a while the room was quiet. But when she felt the sensation of cold metal on her body, the silence was broken and she took in a sharp breath.

"Open them."

She didn't even have to open her eyes to know that he was wearing the smirk of a mischievous little boy on his lips.

Finally, she opened her eyes and looked down at her naked body – which was not so naked anymore. Around her neck was a silver necklace. The chain was thin – fragile even. It wandered down her chest and just where her belly button was, there hung one of his arrow heads. Disbelievingly, she took it in her hands – inspecting it. As surveyed it she noticed the traces of blood.

"It's amazing that this little thing took your handmaidens last breath of life, isn't it?" Ramsay sounded amused.

Clara on the other hand was shocked,but delighted all the same. It was a gift with meaning. Nonetheless, a dangerous present.

"Very impressive..." She said breathless – not knowing what she should feel. Maybe akin to happiness. In her younger years she always used to collect trophies. This wasn't her trophy sister's necklace wasn't her trophy either. Regardless, Ramsay gave both trophies to her. Killing for each other had turned into a kind of a tradition between them.

"This way you will always have her with you."  
He framed her face with his hands and kissed her passionately.

* * *

_Thanks to my beta reader: HimmelreichLYNX_

* * *

_Note: Like you may have noticed I included characters from the GoT Telltale game into my story. There's no need to worry about spoilers. In my story the ending of the first episode was slightly different and I will write it from there without looking at what happens in episode 2 - 6 because I can't keep up with that since the episodes need so long to come out. I hope you all understand and that you'll enjoy :)_

_Also, thank you for your on going supoort and feedback. I love reading it all!_

_xx_


	11. Kids That I Once Knew

**11 Kids That I Once Knew**

_White , soft snow blanketed the mountains – brightening the world with reflected light filtering in from the overcast sky . It was the first time six year old Clara saw snow. Real snow! Not the bastards that she'd seen around the Dreadfort, and oh- they had plenty of them. Not all highborn or worth mentioning, but the name Snow was heard often enough for her to know it's meaning._

_It was an early morning, time for her daily lessons with Maester Bestlin and other girls that lived in the castle. As usual she wasn't in the mood for it. Studying was one of the things she enjoyed least - the girls she had to study with annoyed her. All little princesses. More than five times a week she asked her parents for her to be allowed to take private lessons - but they never agreed to it. They said she needed to socialize._

_The snow crunched beneath her shoes as she followed Maester Bestlin and the other girls into the woods. Maester Bestlin wanted to show them something – what, he did not say._

_Clara trailed behind the crowd of people silently – drifting away in her thoughts to far away lands. Lands of power and adventure. The North wasn't such a land. Everyone was safe and sound here thanks to House Stark. For a moment she tried to remember their words – Bestlin just taught her a few days ago – but she gave up quickly as she couldn't remember them._

Wooosh.

_The girl paused. What was that sound? Her eyes tried to get a glimpse of something between the trees. Where did the sound come from? She stood there for a moment longer - but there was nothing. Disappointed, she turned away from the noise and continued to follow her group._

Wooosh.

_There it was again! Clara stopped once more. She had almost thought she'd only imagined it the first time. With ears pricked up she listened again._

Wooosh.

_This time the sound that followed the last one came much quicker. Her heart began to race. She wanted to find out what it was!_

Wooosh.

Wooosh.

_Quickly, Clara glanced at her group. They had went on without her– and without noticing her absence. Clara smiled to herself as she turned her back to the group and started walking towards the sound. Fleet-footed she waddled through the deep snow – always careful to not make a sound that could scare off the thing that made the funny sound._

_The sound led her deeper and deeper into the woods – far away from the rest of the girls. Clara didn't pay attention to that. Her curiosity was far stronger than her fear of the unknown._

_Glancing through the trees she could see a boy standing in the middle of a glade. Around him she spied red spots and dying pigeons - that still moved slightly - across the ground. The boy was dressed in shabby clothing. In his hands he held a bow and arrow that appeared to have been made by him. More arrows were strewn haphazardly all over the ground. They must've made the sound she'd heard. He supplied himself with another arrow, placed it against the bow's string, and pulled once more – aiming at another pigeon that sat perched on a tree branch._

"_You're doing it wrong," Clara said as she got close enough for him to hear her._

_Her words startled him. He turned around abruptly and shot the arrow in her direction. The arrow buzzed through the air. The girl wasn't fast enough to jump away. She managed to stumble a few steps back and fall on her butt, but the arrow head still slit her cheek open. Blood was coming out of the small wound. It wasn't deep but she would have to think of an explanation for it before returning home._

"_Go away!" The boy growled and lowered his bow._

_She crossed her eyes and scrunched her nose - then proceeded to wipe the blood off her face as she got up. Nonetheless, it kept bleeding._

"_What did you do that for?" Clara asked - angry - wiping the wound once more, but only managing to rub more dirt into it. A burning sensation had started in her cheek - which she tried very hard to ignore._

"_It was an accident. Now go away or the next arrow won't miss its target," he threatened her. Apparently he was embarrassed that he had been seen._

"_You're still doing it wrong," she merely repeated._

_Slowly, she stepped closer – taking a look at the pigeons on the ground. None of them were dead. Some of them had an arrow stuck in them. Others just had injured wings._

"_Are you trying to tell me you know how to shoot an arrow?" He asked her cockily._

"_No!" She cried out. Of course she didn't. Carefully, she took one of the pigeons in her hands. "But they look pretty alive to me," she mocked him._

_The pigeon looked at her – appearing almost scared. Softly, she stroked its head before wringing it and breaking the pigeons neck._

"_See, now it's dead," Clara smiled and held the dead pigeon out for him to see it._

_The boy grinned and took the pigeon out of her hands. Finally he was close enough for her to take a look at him. He was a few years older than her, but not that many. She even remembered seeing him around the Dreadfort before. His hair was frizzy and a deep black. She had to hold herself back from reaching out and tousling it._

"_Maybe that's not the point," he argued and threw the pigeon aside. It seemed like he wasn't particularly impressed by death... But at least she had his attention now, and he wasn't intending to send her away anymore. Clara was certain that this had turned out to be much more educational than whatever Maester Bestlin's lesson was._

"_What's the point then?" Clara asked - curious. Hunters always killed their prey as far as she knew._

_The boy only shrugged and started to collect the arrows that were still intact. Some of them had broke when they'd hit trees or rocks on the ground._

"_Training," he answered calmly. "Killing the enemy isn't alway smart - and it's less fun."_

"_Fun?" Clara raised an eyebrow. She couldn't tell how killing was fun. Her father always told her that some things had to be done, but it wasn't right to make a creature suffer for nothing. This boy seemed to be of a different opinion._

_He nodded and handed her the bow. "I'll show you."_

_She hesitated. Weapons weren't made for girls. Her dear mother was teaching her everything she needed to know, and the craft of war was not one of these things. What did her parents know, though? They always preached how dangerous the world was so maybe knowing how to handle a bow would come in handy one day._

_Her eyes wandered to the boy. He looked at her – thrilled to see how she would react. She almost didn't reach out for the bow, but his cocky smile provoked her - pushed her to take the chance. Wordlessly, she took the bow and held her hand out._

"_Arrow?" She asked plainly._

_The boy's grin got even dirtier, but eventually he gave her one of the arrows he had just collected._

"_Try to hit one of the trees," he ordered - telling her her first exercise._

_Clara nodded and bent the bow the way she had seen it done so many times before. Pulling the string back was difficult for her – after all, she was only six years old _and _a girl. The boy was already taller and obviously stronger than her. Aiming didn't work too well, so when she let go the arrow buzzed through the air and disappeared somewhere in the woods._

_The boy broke into peals of laughter. "And you say I'm doing it wrong?"_

_Clara made a pouty face. She had wanted it to be good. She had wanted to impress him. She had wanted to be talented._

„_It's a stupid game." She said - frustrated - handing him back the bow._

"_Let's make a deal. I teach you how to do it and you won't tell anyone I was here," the boy offered her – sounding much friendlier._

_Confused, she looked at him. _"_Why would anyone care what you do here?" She wondered._

"_Doesn't matter. Just promise." He begged her grumpily. Apparently he didn't want to talk about it._

_Before Clara could answer they were interrupted. A snowball hitting the boy on the back of his head was followed by girlish giggling._

"_Ugh, Clara made a new friend."_

"_Now she's even starting to hang out with bastards."_

"_How pathetic."_

_Her group had finally noticed her absence it seemed. Only Maester Bestlin was missing. All the girls laughed and looked at them with their judging, beady eyes - eyes that Clara would've loved to rip out._

"_Leave him alone!" Clara shouted. The girls were so unfair and mean! What did it matter if he was a bastard or not? She wasn't even sure the girls were telling the truth._

"_I'll put an arrow in all of your heads." The boy growled – clearly he could defend himself very well and didn't need Clara to do it._

_One of the girls crossed her arms._

"_That's going to be a very useful skill when they send you to the wall. Aren't they going to be doing that soon?" She mocked him._

_The girls kept laughing and had now started to throw snowballs at both of them. Without hesitating, Clara grabbed the boy's hand and pulled him with her - running - through the woods._

_As they ran the laughing got quieter. Running away was never a good choice – she knew that - but she wanted to avoid the situation before it got worse. Additionally, it was better to leave before Maester Bestlin showed up._

_For the entire time that they ran, they didn't notice that they were still holding hands._

_Eventually they stopped and let themselves fall into a deep snow bank. Clara started laughing, though there wasn't anything to laugh about._

"_Why did we do that? I could've put an arrow through all of their heads," the boy said angrily._

_Clara looked at him – still laughing._

"_I know but.. killing the enemy isn't always smart and it's less fun." She repeated the words he'd told her just a few minutes ago._

_The girls deserved worse than an arrow – much worse in her opinion._

_For a short while the boy looked at her doubtfully, but then his face lit up and he joined in her laughter. Silently they agreed on making a plan to make the girls suffer for what they did._

_The boy reached out to wipe the blood off her face that still dripped from her wound. He then proceeded to lick it off his finger._

"_Are you Roose Boltons bastard?" Clara suddenly asked. The entire time she had tried to remember to whom he belonged and now she knew. She had seen him before with his mother. They always were somewhere around the Bolton Lord who had looked highly displeased every time._

"_I'm Ramsay," the boy corrected her. Of course, she wouldn't have wanted to be called a bastard. No one wanted to be called that._

_Clara smiled._

„_Nice to meet you, Ramsay. I'm Clara." she introduced herself._

_Until dawn they stayed in the forest – talking, laughing, playing and exercising some more with the bow. They gazed happily into each others eyes before going their separate ways at the end of the day. In that moment she knew. She knew they would be good friends._

_For some reason they seemed to already have a deep understanding of each other._

* * *

_Thanks to my beta-reader: HimmelreichLYNX_


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